


recombinant

by TheSpaceCoyote



Series: Huxloween 2019 [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Eldritch Kylo, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Corruption, Grand Marshal Armitage Hux, Hurt/Comfort, Hux to the rescue, Love Confessions, M/M, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 07:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21133223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Something strange and terrifying has happened to the Supreme Leader, and Grand Marshal Hux is the only one who can even hope to bring Kylo Ren back to himself.





	recombinant

**Author's Note:**

> I've been dying to write an extremely Force-corrupted/monster Kylo for ages. Finally went ahead and did one! Pretty sure the Force, even in an uncontrollable state, can't really do something like this, but well...it was more fun this way!
> 
> Done for Huxloween Day 20: "Mutation."

When Hux receives the communication that something has happened to the Supreme Leader, he immediately assumes the worst. 

It doesn’t help matters that no one around him is forthcoming with details when he asks for them—not the scout that reports the issue to him, not the pilot that takes him down to the planet, not the trooper squad commanders that meet him at the gangplank. 

Hux doesn’t like being kept out of the loop and running headlong into a situation without a proper debriefing, but he quickly sees why when he sets foot upon the battlefield—or what remains of it. 

What was the site of what Hux believed to be nothing more than a minor skirmish is gone now, completely blasted apart by a massive crater. Shards of bedrock and bubbling clouds of dust sit suspended in the air around it, like an exploding hull frozen mid-burst. From within the crater red light occasionally emanates, anywhere from a soft, pulsing glow to a violent lash of plasma that lights up the entire area around it. 

Hux lets out a startled hiss of breath, slitted and cut short on his teeth. Now it’s readily apparent why no one could explain what had happened. What sits before him defies proper, sensible description. 

“I don’t understand,” Hux asks the squad commander beside him, despite the sinking, knowing feeling in his stomach, “where is the Supreme Leader?”

A knot tightens in the commander’s throat. Wordlessly, he lifts a hand and points straight towards the crater. Hux follows his finger, but with all the debris in the air and the flashes of light spotting in his vision, he can’t make out much. 

“Everyone else who has tried to approach him, they’ve…” The other squad commander musters his voice only to lose it in a sharp, shuddering intake of breath. Hux looks to him, finds his eyes wide as dinner plates. Hux has seen shellshock in a man’s face before, but this looks even different from that. He looks as if he’s seen something that’s warped him down to the very depths of his mind. 

The sinking feeling in his stomach collects into a deep pool of dread. Hux looks back towards the crater just as another flurry of energy starts up, whipping the floating debris about like a maelstrom. Wind catches at the hem of his greatcoat, sending it aflutter, and as he lifts up his arm to protect his face from the sand he catches a whisper of something carried through the air. 

“_Hux…” _

It’s distorted, as if fed through the line of a mangled comlink, but it’s _ Ren_. 

He’s in there, somewhere. Hux takes a bracing breath. But of course he is—is there anyone else in the galaxy capable of such a bizarre, powerful feat?

“You all will stay here,” Hux orders, anticipating no argument and indeed he receives none. Each commander gives him only a trembling salute and a prematurely mournful, thousand-yard stare as he strides forward towards the lip of the crater. 

Immediately when Hux enters it he feels the temperature drop so sharply it casts goosebumps on his skin, even through the many layers of his uniform and the extra-thick material of his embellished Grand Marshal’s coat. Hux hisses and breathes out mist, pulling the garment tighter around himself as he forges towards what he hopes is the center of the crater. The floating clouds of dust and broken earth above him obscure the already dimmed sun, their presence casting long and aberrant shadows upon the grey earth. 

Hux sets his boot on what feels like a stable piece of ground, only for a sharp _ crack _ to split the air and send him rearing back. A second later, the earth where he’d been standing splits away and rises up into the air, joining the storm of debris above just as another flash of light fills the crater—this time accompanied by a loud, resounding _ roar_. Hux blanches, the last shred of his nerve nearly escaping him as the cry chills him down to the marrow and sends disrupting ripples through his ears to the deepest vestibule in his brain. His legs tremble, knees bowing inwards, and he almost loses his equilibrium and falls to the ground to gibber and wail and wet himself until his own men drag him out, if they dare brave the crater at all. 

But again, in the fading echo of the roar, he hears it—his name, whispered with increased desperation, and that helps him continue forward, deeper into the crater, towards the source of the red light. He watches his step as the fervid energy in the air continues to rip more and more chunks of earth out of the ground, wending around floating columns of stone and wrecked equipment. It’s horrifying enough to witness such uncontrollable power rip the very planet they stand on apart, but that’s hardly comparable to the sight of several stormtroopers floating in the air in pieces, their armor shattered into splinters of white and red, flesh split open and cut to ribbons, intestines and other organs floating like ghoulish garlands above Hux’s head as he tries valiantly to hold back his sick. 

They’re hardly the last, either. The forest of corpses only grows thicker the closer Hux gets to the crater’s center, the smell of burnt blood and burst viscera so vile Hux has to clasp a palm over his nose. It’s so cold here that the mists of blood that had spurted from the troopers severed limbs and torn throats are frozen like crystals in the air, wetting Hux’s face and clothes in a dew-like sheen as he walks through them. Above him, the sun can hardly penetrate through the sea of carnage, and what light does come through is rendered blood-red and dull, like the last gasp of an aged star before it goes supernova. The only significant illumination is the occasional strobe of red light, which never seems to grow any closer, as if toying with him, never intending to let him near. 

Eventually the air grows so thick and the temperature so hopelessly cold that Hux wonders if he’ll ever be able to find his way out of this, or whether it’s even Ren at all that lies waiting at the source of the red light. It’s not that Hux knows what’s actually happened to him. Perhaps it isn’t Ren at all calling out to him, but a trick, a lure to draw him into this nightmare and keep him here, amongst the shattered battlefield and slaughtered troopers, walking in an endless, futile search until he too dies and becomes a part of this macabre display. 

Thus when something massive and shadowy suddenly looms out of the fog ahead of him, sending the floating bodies and bits of rock flying back with a sharp blast of energy, Hux believes his end has finally come for him. 

As the gale violently rips at his body Hux throws his arms up in a meek attempt to defend himself. He shuts his eyes tightly, expecting to be rent apart at any moment, throw into the air in a garish, dismembered warning like the rest of his men. But instead of that, the warped voice returns, rolling over the howl of the wind and the jarring, unexpected sound of footsteps far heavier than Hux has ever heard before. 

“_Hux_..._Hux…help_…”

With a gasp Hux opens his eyes. 

In the sudden clarity at the center of the crater, with debris and corpses drift in a harmless vortex around him, Hux can see the hulking shadow he thought would’ve certainly already killed him and strewn his entrails over the ground. Now brought into detail, yet impossible to define though it stood no more than a couple of paces in front of him, towering with all the terror and magnanimity of a living ruin built long ago by an ancient civilization, long forgotten, now resurrected with a vengeance and laying waste to all that crossed it. 

Large as a krayt dragon, perhaps even larger, it stalks towards Hux, body both heavy and indistinct, comprised of dark shifting mass that occasionally gives birth to gasping, fanged maws and writhing flurries of red eyes. The air around the creature crackles and sparks with energy, every other step unleashing a blast of red plasma that, despite its vibrancy and apparent power, passes harmlessly through Hux on its way to whip about the debris in the churning vortex around them. But the vicious claws dragging scours in the earth and rows of gnashing teeth and other wicked outgrowths spotting its entire bulk hardly look as harmless. 

Hux feels like he should be afraid, _ terrified _ of the creature especially as it bears down upon him. It should be nightmarish to witness, enough to reduce the usually calm and calculated general to a sobbing, weak child desperate to pull the blankets over his head and pretend this is all a dream. 

And although Hux feels like he’s dangling on the edge of trepidation, filled with the kind of tingly awe that comes with standing at the rim of a gaping, endless chasm and looking down into nothing, if Hux had to call it something he wouldn’t call it fear. Instead, what tugs at his heart is _ pity_. Sympathy for the state of the deformed, sorrowful creature in front of him. He can sense that somewhere, deep within the writhing, unstable turmoil that consumes everything within reach, that it needs him. 

Hux takes one step towards it, then another. After the third, he can no longer feel his legs, body moving on its own as he draws close to the creature. It doesn’t move in the sense that it tries to flee or strike out at him, but its form constantly shifts and shimmers, like bubbles of steam in a simmering pot, moving with erratic and chaotic movement, bits of its body lashing out as if trying to escape only to be dragged back into the twitching mass. 

With his breath in his throat and his heart beating so fast it almost feels like it’s stopped entirely, Hux lifts his hands towards the head of the creature, a great mass of what looks like matted black hair hanging down in long, unfurling tendrils that nearly brush against the ground. It extends towards him, neck elongating out from the main body of the creature until the shrouded head brushes up against Hux’s outstretched palms. He shivers at the sensation. The tendrils feel too dense to be real human hair, almost like cords of muscle or the spongy roots of a gnarled tree reaching deep in the earth, and Hux fights the urge to recoil at the texture and slick chill of them as he burrows his hands through the mass, seeking. For a moment, he feels like he might just sink into the creature entirely, be subsumed and assimilated and made a part of Ren’s new, horrific form forever, but then—within the squelching amalgam of flesh and corruption, he finally finds what he’s been looking for all this time. 

“There you are, my one,” Hux says, cooing lowly as a touch of relief washes over him. His fingers stroke over the warm, unmarred skin in his hands, feeling over the tacky, wet tracks running down it. “_Shhh_. There’s no need to cry. I’m here.” 

He’s never comforted another soul in his life but the words come easily, drawn from a well of compassion dry and barren for every single other denizen of the galaxy. Maybe once, someone had spoken those words to him and managed to imprint them into his memory, when he’d still been young and not yet formed, not yet hardened into the man many had also decried as a monster laying waste to all that was considered good and adequately just. 

But between monsters, there could be understanding. There could be sympathy. Even love. 

At the brush of gentle fingers against his face, Ren lets out a yowl that weakens into a guttural whimper, laden with so much pain and misery that Hux feels his head grow heavy and overburdened with sensation, Ren’s muddled thoughts and emotions delving deep into his mind without any of the usual restraint. For a moment Hux wavers, almost falls to the same madness himself, but then he remembers the feeling of familiar flesh in his hands and brushes aside the thick tendrils of overgrown hair obscuring the head of the creature. 

“Let me see you.”

Like a moon rising out from behind the curtain of an unforgiving night a face of pale flesh and lucid, deep brown eyes gazes at Hux from within the writhing mass of hair. And while that dappled flesh is unstable, constantly shifting and bulging over the ephemeral bones and tendons that abruptly rise into unnatural existence, and those eyes far more than the usual two, blinking out of sync with one another as if befuddled by their own multiplicity, they both undeniably belong to _Ren._ As does the low, trembling whine that drips from a quaking pair of lips, filled as they are with long, mismatched fangs. Hux trails his hand down Ren’s face, thumb coming to rest at the corner of his mouth. 

“You’ve really made a mess of things this time, haven’t you?” He doesn’t mean the odd levity in his tone, but that’s how the words tumble out of his mouth, and despite himself Hux smiles. Setting aside the violent distortion of Ren’s body and the slaughter of scores of good men, the situation is almost achingly familiar. As competent and cruel a leader Ren is, there’s been many a time over the years where Hux has been left the only one capable and caring enough to tend to him at his darkest, most vulnerable moments. 

Ren lets out another whine, fangs parting slightly around a black tongue. Hux feels a spike of anguish lance into his mind, and hushes the creature with a soft caress. 

“_Shhh_. It’s alright, you don’t have to be upset. I forgive you.”

Ren appears to bow his head, a fresh flood of silvery tears leaking from each of his many eyes. Hux cranes his neck and leans in to meet him, until their foreheads rest together. Once they touch, a flood of emotion and jumbled thoughts surge through Hux’s mind, threatening to overwhelm him, but Hux holds firm, wrapping around the chaotic mass of Ren’s essence with warmth and safety and _ love_. 

“Everything’s fine now, you don’t need to keep fighting,” Hux whispers, some strength deeply buried inside of him keeping his voice steady, “I just want to take you home, Ren, you deserve it. Order. Safety. _ Home. _ Let us go home.”

He lets his eyes flutter half-closed as he tilts his chin up. Still framing Ren’s face, he lays a soft kiss upon his lips, disregarding the self-inflicted drools of blood and the stained fangs making a mess of Ren’s mouth. He kisses him again, and again, clinging to the sliver of Ren he can still sense inside of the creature with the full force of his compassion, calming the anger and fear turning the man inside out both in body and soul, in hopes he’ll find his way and come back to himself. 

“I love you, I love you,” Hux whispers one last time, repeating, “I love you. Let’s go home.”

All at once, the vortex of debris stops spinning, and for a moment everything within the radius of the crater freezes completely, as if caught in between the exhale and inhale of a great beast. Then Ren’s monstrous form collapses, crumbling and shrinking into one small silhouette as he falls forward into Hux’s embrace. The clouds of vaporized blood and dust suddenly solidify and sink, falling to the ground and painting the cracked earth of the crater in lurid patterns of splatter. Impacts echo around the sudden silence as the shards of rock and corpses of troopers alike hit the ground, finally released from their unnatural suspension and laid back to rest. 

Hux’s knees buckle as Ren’s full weight sags against him, but he manages to hold on tightly as they both sink to the earth together. Beneath the ragged remains of Ren’s cloak Hux still feels his body twitch and roil with erratic energy, struggling to hold itself together in a manageable form. From his hunched back and messy, obscuring hair, wisps of black continue to rise, like soot blown from a smoldering fire. Wet, raspy breaths suck against Hux’s shoulder, interposed with blips of weak sobbing as Ren huddles into his Grand Marshal’s proffered warmth. 

Hux nests his nose into the side of Ren’s head, inhaling deeply of wet, _ real _ hair. The being resting up against him is hardly the stoic, bloodthirsty Supreme Leader Hux has come to know and care for over their many years together. When the troopers gathered around the crater finally muster enough nerve to approach them, they’ll probably be perplexed at the sight of their master shivering and sniveling, barely coherent in body or mind. 

Despite all that, Hux continues holding him close, as if perhaps hoping his embrace will help keep Ren in a stable form until they can get him help. Hux already knows that, if need be, he’ll hold onto Ren forever, if it means stopping him from losing himself entirely to whatever horrors encroach in the margins of his mind. 

He’ll do anything to keep Ren his.

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments! Let me know what you thought about this, or what you think happens to Kylo after Hux takes him back to the ship. Does he manage to reattain his entirely human form? 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


End file.
